Right Arm of the Saint

A midsummer city—

The place was called Itogami Island, a small outcropping floating atop the Pacific Ocean. It was entirely artificial, constructed with carbon fiber, resin, metal, and sorcery.

A white moon floated high in the sky, but the sea that enveloped the city reflected a cold light.

It was close to midnight: almost time to shift to the new date.

Glass windows of buildings with the lights turned off reflected the illumination of lampposts, making them look much like cracked magic mirrors. The bustling city in front of the station was a dazzling sea of neon: family restaurants operating late at night, karaoke joints, convenience stores. The streets were still full of young people.

As they laughed in innocent clamor, they sometimes argued about silly rumors.

These were meaningless subjects, pure distractions from boredom. A common urban legend: that a vampire known as the Fourth Primogenitor was somewhere in this city.

The man spoke with a serious tone. The Fourth Primogenitor was immortal and indestructible. Rejecting his vampiric brethren, he did not desire domination, but only the service of the twelve Beast Vassals that
were disaster incarnate, the sipping of blood, carnage, and destruction. The vampire was said to be ruthless and heartless, completely beyond the doctrines of the world—a monster who had laid waste to many cities in the past.

A bored-looking woman said…

—
Oh yeah? What else?

This was the Demon Sanctuary called Itogami Island. In this city, monsters were not a rarity.

Up to and including the world’s mightiest vampire.

The Fourth Primogenitor, subject of those rumors, continued walking down a sidewalk toward the residential district.

He had the appearance of a young man wearing a white parka hood over his head, swinging a convenience-store shopping bag.

He appeared to be fifteen or sixteen years of age. He looked like an ordinary high school student, which he actually was. His forelocks had a rather thin tint to them, like the fur of a wolf, but even including that, nothing about him stood out. Any way you sliced it, he looked like a completely ordinary teenage boy.

His steps were listless, but not because he was tired. He had the air of a high school student forced to carry the contents of the shopping bag, bought at the nearest convenience store, all the way back home.

There were other people on the streets besides the boy.

There was a pair of young women wearing vibrantly colored
yukata
.

The women were surely only slightly older than the boy was. They seemed like students, still, but they had a charm beyond that of a high schooler’s. From time to time he saw the sides of their faces; their makeup was thick, but they were both quite beautiful.

The young man was walking apart from the pair. However, perhaps out of unfamiliarity with the wooden
geta
sandals they wore, the women’s pace was slow. The distance between them narrowed bit by bit. Carried on the night breeze, the scent of the women’s perfume drifted over.

A small shriek arose before the young man.

One of the women tripped over an irregularity on the street, lost her
balance, and fell over. The
yukata
’s hem rode up quite heavily, exposing even the woman’s thighs as she fell onto her rear.

The young man unwittingly stopped in place and stared.

However, what attracted the young man’s gaze was not the risen hem of the
yukata
, but rather the backs of the girls’ necks. He peered at the gaps between the collars and the raised hair, and at the slender, bare, white napes of their necks.

Even under the dim streetlights, he could easily make out the locations of the pale blood vessels showing through.

He cleared his throat a bit, once only, as if assaulted by a powerful thirst. He covered his eyes with his right hand, perhaps to hide his red-dyed irises.

His entire body gave off an unearthly aura. The girls raised their voices in laughter, not having noticed that yet.

“…!”

The next moment, the young man made a low sigh as he pressed on the tip of his own nose.

He began walking off once more as if nothing had happened.

Crimson liquid spilled from his fingertips. A lukewarm sensation spread within his mouth cavity. A nosebleed.

His blood smelled sweet and metallic.

As he furiously wiped away the blood that gushed from his nose, the young man left the place as fast as his feet could take him. Behind him, the women’s laughing voices continued on.

The midsummer moon was above him. A lukewarm, humid sea breeze blew through the city.

“…Gimme a break.”

The young man muttered to no one in particular. The nosebleed hadn’t stopped yet.

A midsummer forest—

Late at night, the brightly burning fire illuminated the temple grounds.
Pale moonlight illuminated the hall of worship. A chill over the air, enough to make one forget the season, was surely due to the barrier that surrounded the Shinto shrine.

Even the noisy cries of the insects could barely be heard now.

The girl knelt in the center of the hall of worship without a word.

Some childish features remained, but the girl had a very pretty face.

Her slender body was delicate, but it gave no impression of being fragile. To the contrary, the girl gave off a sense of supple tenacity, like a finely crafted blade. Perhaps it was her seriousness that conveyed it: how her lips pressed together, the strong light that shone in the girl’s eyes.

The girl wore the uniform of a private junior high school in the Kansai region.

Though a famed alma mater for Shinto traditionalists, few knew it was a subordinate branch of the Lion King Agency.

Three people preceded her in the hall of worship.

A bamboo blind obstructed her view of them. However, the girl had been informed of their true nature beforehand.

They were the elders of the Lion King Agency, known as “The Three Saints.”

Though each was a medium or magician of the highest rank, they were enveloped by an aura of tranquility, as if there were nothing coercive about them at all. The very lack of it was frightening.

Subconsciously, the girl tightly gripped the cuffs of her uniform. Then—

“State your name.”

She heard a voice from beyond the bamboo blind. The tone was solemn, but she felt no frigidity. The voice was younger than she had expected. It was a woman’s voice that, somewhere in it, held the trace of a smile.

“Himeragi. Yukina Himeragi.”

She answered a moment too slowly. There was a faint shudder in her voice from tension. However, the woman on the other side of the bamboo blind paid no heed and continued her questions.

“Your age?”

“In four months I will turn fifteen.”

“I see… Yukina Himeragi. You began your training seven years ago, yes? Right around your seventh birthday…on a cold, snowy night, you were brought to the agency, alone. Do you remember that day?”

The woman behind the bamboo blind suddenly spoke in a monologue-like tone. A chill went down Yukina’s spine. Surely she hadn’t looked into that in advance. She’d read Yukina’s memories. She’d shrugged aside Yukina’s mental defenses with an overwhelming level of ESP.

“No… I have only vague memories of it.”

Yukina shook her head slightly. Surely the woman had noticed that her words were not truthful. However, the woman said nothing of it, continuing her questions instead.

“Your grades seem good. Endo praises you highly.”

“Thank you very much.”

“It seems you have worked together with Endo a number of times. She was an Attack Mage of rare excellence. Your mental defense technique shares the same quirks as hers. Did Endo teach you anything else?”

“All ritual techniques, as well as shaman techniques, illusion techniques, and exorcism.”

“And magical techniques? That should be Endo’s area of expertise…”

“A general understanding of continental Chinese technique. Only basic theory of Western magical techniques.”

“Any combat experience against demons?”

“I have undergone intensive training twice in training school, involving mock battles. No actual combat experience.”

“Martial arts?”

“I am somewhat capable in them.”

“Yes?
I certainly hope so.
”

She sensed a small laugh from the woman behind the bamboo screen.

“—?!”

That instant, Yukina leaped, sensing an explosive level of bloodlust welling up.

She kicked off the wooden floor, landing with a backward roll. This wasn’t an action of conscious thought. Her body, sensing danger, moved subconsciously.

A blade rent the atmosphere, slicing through the space in which Yukina had been sitting a moment before.

If Yukina had moved even an instant slower, she would no doubt have lost her life. It was a serious cutting attack with a real blade.

Two large, armored samurai appeared, seemingly melting in from out of the darkness itself.

One faceless warrior gripped a large, unrefined blade. The other, a four-armed warrior, wielded bows to its left and right.

They were beings without physical form,
shikigami
produced via ritual techniques. No doubt the work of one of the Three Saints behind the bamboo screen. But before she could process that, Yukina had shifted to a counterattack.

“Distort!”

Chanting the short spell within her mouth, she focused ritual energy into her palms, slamming them past the attacking war god’s armor, directly into its innards.

The armored samurai instantly vanished. All that remained were the large blades it had gripped.

Yukina grabbed the long sword that had been used as a catalyst for creating the
shikigami
. She used the weapon to defend against the second armored samurai’s attacks, fending them off. And, the moment after her opponent finished firing its arrows, she sliced it in half with a horizontal slash of the long sword. The second armored samurai vanished without a trace.

“What’s…the meaning of this?”

As she panted lightly, Yukina turned the long sword toward the bamboo screen.

She was not inclined to face any more
shikigami
. Inferior in physical strength, Yukina had no chance of victory in prolonged combat. Even if her opponents were the elders of the Lion King Agency, if they intended to continue this farce, she’d have to strike down the casters directly. Such was her judgment.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Excellent judgment, Yukina Himeragi. Well done.”

She heard hearty laughter from a man with a low, throaty voice.

Next, in a voice she couldn’t distinguish by age or gender…

“Rituals and divinations might not be her forte, but she excels at
spiritual detection and swordsmanship… Just as the report said, a classical Sword Shaman. I suppose I must first say you have passed.”

“Passed…?”

As she heard the voices of the elders beyond the bamboo screen, Yukina knit her eyebrows with a sound of annoyance.

“Yes. Ordinarily, you would need to complete a four-month course to become qualified as a Sword Shaman. However, circumstances have changed. Please sit, Yukina Himeragi.”

So said the first woman. Reluctantly obeying her words, Yukina returned to her kneeling position. She made a sigh and put down the long sword.

“Now, let us get down to business.”

“All right.”

“Good answer. First, look at this.”

Along with those words, something appeared through a gap in the bamboo screen. It was a single butterfly.

Flapping without a sound, the butterfly landed in front of Yukina and transformed into a single photograph.

The person shown was a single male student wearing a high school uniform. Someone seemed to have secretly taken the photo while he was having a friendly chat with a friend. He had a defenseless, wide-open expression.

“What’s this photograph of?”

“His name is Kojou Akatsuki. Do you know him?”

“No.”

Yukina firmly shook her head. She’d never seen him in her life. Surely they’d expected that answer from the beginning. The woman pressed on with a tone lacking any deep feeling.